Let Go
by ContessaTheBrave
Summary: Yay, emotional predicaments for attractive characters! *cue dramatic music* The fiction's AU, which means it's most likely going to be a bit good; I'm not just saying this because it's my fan fic, man. I mean, who doesn't love Itachi being raped? :B
1. Melancholy

**Well, well, look what I pulled out of my head. Enjoy~**

Perhaps it appeals to have a somewhat random appearance, to call a thirteen-year-old a child. But, in this case, one should realize the child has lost two immensely important figures and role models in his life; the poor boy _is_, quite frankly, a mere pup compared to the rest of the world. When a child's parents pass away, the child must inherit new responsibilities, such as learning not to cry about the loss of love and laughter that once dissolved through the vivacious, lively house where the said child used to live. The child must become stronger, to protect himself and his little brother, whom was only eight, against the uprising world held before them. This child would be tantalized by pressures that were meant to be unknown to one so young, so innocent; so _pathetic_. Without the help and support of his parents, he is alone; even with his little brother holding his hand, he is alone. He must make the decisions for his and his little brother's future. All of the dreams involving his loved ones have now faded completely, like a soft rainbow amidst dense gray clouds that guard the sustainer of life, to which its rays of light shined brightly on two gravestones, side by side. The boy will be forced to become a mere corpse, a lifeless soul that walks the road of life, knowing his various predicaments will remain unsolved, untouched by his trembling hands. This is the somber, cruel story of how two brothers are fixed in a situation that neither of them can find escape; the story of Itachi and Sasuke Uchiha.

Itachi's P.O.V.

It's been years since our parents died, yet I see in my little brother's eyes a glazed sorrow that erases all feeling, all emotion. I can never bring myself to look into his eyes for more than a minute without feeling guilty about our situation; after the funeral of our parents, we were sent to our uncle's, to live with him. Little did the officials who gave us over know that uncle _Madara_ was involved in the mob, and lived with criminals; their ages varied, as did their various crimes. Uncle Madara dealt too many drugs for me to remember the names, at that period of time, and always had something "important" he needed to accomplish, so he left me and Otouto alone, for the most part. There were countless times when one of the criminals would try to "mess around" with me or little Sasuke; this always ended badly. One reason was due to my early lessons in Karate and Tai Kwon Do; the other was because uncle Madara would force the drunken man away from us; he never let anyone touch me and Sasuke.

Until I hit my fifteenth birthday. That's when things went down the drain; for _me_, that is. Otouto never knew of my personal predicament with my uncle. For you see, he told me, on my fifteenth birthday, that I had a present; I haven't received a present from this man before, so I was hesitant at first. Turns out my little gift involved handcuffs, sweat, and a rigid, painful body; plus, the many cat-calls I was given before-hand by the other men that were the audience in that dreary, intimidating, cold room. It was days before I could even walk my normal gait. Ever since my little gift from Madara was passed to me, my nights have been Hell. Almost every night would mean the rebirth of my humiliation, my fear; my absolute resentment towards Madara. So went my days as his personal slave, being embarrassed at school in the boy's locker room to change for gym; every day, a teacher, Professor Kakashi, coming up to me, asking about my health, for I didn't eat at school, and I slept through almost every class. Such were the years of my freshman, sophomore, and junior years of high school, always flinching when someone merely passed the hallway in front of me; never dating any of the overly made-up girls who smelled of either cheap perfume, or of an exotic, delicious dessert.

I am now eighteen years old, have no social life at school, work at the town's movie theater, and come home only to be greeted by the many cat-calls and wolf whistles that is my life-long present from Madara. Once nighttime comes and shoos away the sun, Otouto comes home. He always arrives around five or six o' clock every day; he has Tai Kwon Do and basketball practices after school. Little Sasuke is now a twelve-year-old raven, with the attitude of an apathetic beast; if it wants to bite, it will, but only if it's a good enough reason. He, unlike his Aniki, has a social life. Middle school girls fret over his 'I don't care about anything' aura, and fall head-over-heels when the raven merely says, "_hn_." I personally do not understand this behavior, but it's rather amusing when I have the chance to pick him up from school, in my black chipped-paint Honda Accord, and I get to watch his little fan club swoon over him. Little Sasuke has a rival/best friend, however, whose name is Naruto; wherever Otouto goes, that blond dope goes, always griping about how he doesn't understand why Sasuke gets treated like a king at the middle school. When I watch Otouto's entertaining episodes, I feel a build-up of envy and jealousy crawling up my spine; the way Madara's coarse hands do to my lean body almost every night. To wonder how he can be so apathetic about everything, to look at the world as if he could just destroy it with one glance of his onyx eyes and not care about the after-effects; it drives me insane. Yes, there are times where I would love to switch places with Otouto; but then, one must think before he acts.

If it were possible to switch lives with Sasuke, it would mean, for me, I would be popular, have girls who would gladly give me a satisfying blow if I merely told them to; I could actually participate in a close-up sport and not worry if the other guys would see my bruises; I could have a best friend. As wonderfully intoxicating as it sounds, there's always a _con_ to every _pro_. Sasuke would, instead of being popular with the ladies, would be popular with uncle _Madara_ and his gang of lethal men. He would have to do _everything_ I had to do for uncle, and be humiliated daily as the other men would flirt or intimidate him. I'd rather have my life be a miserable soul's life than to have little Sasuke's become like mine. _No one_ is to know of my predicament with uncle Madara; it would mean not only the beginning of random people's sudden interest and sympathy for me, it would mean the possibility of Madara doing something so repulsive and menacingly devious that not even I could stand. _He could take me away from Sasuke;_ to an orphanage where the food is scarce, and the people taking care of you beat and flog you.

I cannot be taken away from my Otouto. It would mean the death of my pathetic life. He is the only reason I live, as corny as that sounds. Without him, I'm nothing; maybe people could call me a prostitute. According to uncle, I'm a rather _"tight fit." _But I couldn't possibly lower myself down to a level such as that; I'm already half-way there. A way to make sure no one ever finds a single trace about me: become emotionless, a walking clay figure; a robot. Say nothing to everyone, except for the teachers when I am asked either an idiotic question or a constructive question during class. If someone greets you, ignore them and continue with your journey. For me, this causes both irritation and wonder towards the many high school students. I will admit, my father and mother gave me handsome genes, which is troublesome on my part. To ignore the many high school girls, with their neatly combed hair, their tight, low-cut shirts revealing cleavage (and some of them having tattoos on the said body part) that winks at me, their short skirts teasing me to the point where I cannot think clearly, is a daily challenge. How easy it would be to become a man-whore and have them all begging for my touch! Such daydreaming is irrelevant; I have other situations needing to be solved.

This is my pathetic little life; whether or not I enjoy it has no meaning. My only joy in this life is to make the little, naïve raven happy. To see his mischievous, once-in-a-blue-moon smile makes my nights with Madara less painful. And my story goes on…

"Aniki, wake up," a monotone voice urged in my ear. Moaning, I attempted to swat the air of the raven, whom slid away from my bed impressively, and rolled on my back; I hate mornings. Luckily, I wasn't on Madara's menu last night, so I could actually receive a full night's rest and not have to depend on my friend, the coffee maker, to keep me awake for the rest of the day.

"Aniki! I'm going to be late for school!" Ah, yes; the idiotic school board announced that the middle school would start their classes an hour earlier than the high school. At first, it appears to be absolutely ridiculous, but it can make sense; it allows traffic to become less of a predicament if one school lets out early, like a pathetic teenage girl who would fornicate with a disgusting boy, just so she feels important. As was my morning routine: be kicked awake by Otouto, take a lovely shower, be pestered about being late to school for another twenty minutes (for I ate breakfast and messed with my stupid hair), and finally being rushed out the door by a mildly angry yet amused raven. The only problem was getting to my car, for some of uncle Madara's men were up by now, and they were trouble. A particularly nasty one by the name of Kakuzu would always block my and Sasuke's way to my Honda, demanding our money; you can wonder what his charges were. Sometimes, a man with light gray, slicked-back hair (known as Hidan, if I recall correctly) would try to smack my ass; Sasuke would blink confusedly, while I would shoot a menacing glare at the albino. Rarely were we confronted by Madara; sadly, the bushy-haired liar greeted us at my car this cloudy, dreary morning.

"Well, well, off to school, are we?" He said, his voice dripping with amusement and malevolence; thankfully, Sasuke always brushed him off.

"Obviously, uncle; we're already late as it is," he would say icily; I was always jealous of how he could be so defensive and ostentatious around our uncle. Whereas, if _I_ ever said such remarks, _I'd_ be crippled for a week. Madara just smiled, performing his trademark chuckle, which always ended with a sharp, yet silent intake of air.

"Well, do not let me keep you waiting. Have a good day, _boys_," Sasuke just huffed his bangs out of the way from his pale cheeks, leaving a small, addicting to look at, adorable pout. I merely inclined my head to our uncle, who smirked, crossing his arms at me; I knew this move. I can just hear the words escaping his full-lipped mouth already: _tonight_. Joy, I thought; maybe I _do_ need the help of my coffee.

As I pulled into the parking lot of the middle school, Sasuke unhooked his seatbelt, but paused to look at me. I turned my apathetic face towards his, an arched eyebrow confronting him.

"What is it?" Sasuke had a mixture of confusion and sadness painted onto his features as he looked into my similar, onyx eyes.

"Uncle treats you different than he does to me," he noted, tilting his head so silently. "Why?"

My mind was blown; he's starting an adventure, to find out my deepest secret. While he's the heroic, innocent hero, I must be the ferocious, terrifying, princess-kidnapping dragon; he cannot pass so swiftly into my mind. I must defeat his impulses; while his sword may be sharp, my fangs and breath are sharper.

"Are you becoming _jealous_, Otouto?" I asked innocently, smiling slyly at his horrorstruck face; he simply cannot _stand_ people saying he is jealous of anything. Cursing under his breath, the fierce little raven shot out of the car, slamming the door behind him. I couldn't help but chuckle at his immaturity.

"Have a good day, Otouto_-san_," I said to him as he strode towards the building, smirking at my action; at least he isn't trying to pry into my head anymore. The raven just blew a raspberry at me, which is immensely surprising; he's lost control of his emotions so quickly. If anyone at his school were to see his behavior, they would think he was a different person entirely.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, my phone vibrated in my jeans pocket. As I stopped at a red light, I quickly flipped it open; it was a call.

"Hello?" I asked, with a hint of musicality. It was Madara; my entertained mood quickly vanished, only to be replaced by apathy and slight worry.

"We need to talk, boy," Madara said darkly, yet softly; it made my hair rise on the back of my neck. "Come back home." He then hung up. I emotionlessly turned my Honda towards "home," not looking forward to this meeting what-so-ever. As I pulled in the driveway, I could see uncle's bushy hair by the front door, but he had someone unfamiliar by his side. From where I was parked, it appeared to be a girl, with luscious blonde hair that kissed her shoulder blades; she appeared to have no chest. Sighing in disappointment of the lack of bust, since I _am_ a teenager, I strode silently towards my uncle and Incognito.

"Ah, Ita-chan," Madara crooned deviously, motioning me closer to him and the blonde. As I walked hesitantly towards the duo, I noticed the blonde Jane Doe was a John Doe; for he had a slight, barely noticeable mustache hidden under his straight nose and above his rosy lips. They boy looked nervous, his fingers playing with the lint of his hoodie. Madara suddenly clasped a strong hand on the boy's shoulder, which caused John Doe to wince slightly and clench his teeth.

"Deidara-san is a _friend_ of mine and a few others here," uncle said declaratively, rubbing Deidara's shoulder; the blonde stared at the ground, trembling slightly. "He goes to your high school, you know," Madara added amusingly, catching my look of surprise. How odd is it that I have never seen this boy at school? "Since he was with me last night, he lost his ride to school. I figured it would be deemed appropriate if you took him with you." He then looked into my eyes, glaring slightly.

"That sounds negotiable," I said lamely, dropping my head to watch my hands fiddle around my car keys. Madara smirked, turning to me; he clapped me on the back, hard, causing my eyes to twitch.

"There's a good lad. Now, Dei-chan, off you go," Madara said idly, watching my and Deidara's forms retreat to my Honda. As I unlocked the doors and we both plopped into the seats, I threw a quick glance towards Madara; thankfully, he already left for the inside of the house. I quickly started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. Once we hit the highway, Deidara spoke timidly.

"So…who are you?" His voice was so small, yet sounded like he had been screaming the entire night; I sadly wouldn't doubt it. I cleared my throat softly.

"Itachi; Madara's my uncle," I said emotionlessly. Absentmindedly, I cast a glance at his face, and noticed a small portion of his left cheek was bruised; his face was turned towards me.

"Ah," he whispered, and then turned his head to concentrate on the window. An awkward silence was born between us, and I grew somewhat restless at his lack of communication.

"Uncle said you knew some of the others in the house," I stated quietly. "May I ask whom?" The blonde nodded.

"It's Sasori-sama and Pein; plus Hidan, but I cannot stand him, un." Surprising, how he knew Sasori, the one who was caught holding drugs into many of his hand-made puppets, and Pein, the multiple-pierced red head; he usually was with Madara. I noticed his little trademark 'un' then. I concluded it must have been a form of stuttering.

"Hn," I mumbled, focusing on the road. "What year are you in at school?" I asked without thinking, again. He replied that he was a sophomore. Thankfully, to be rid of the awkward questions, we arrived at the high school; I pulled into my usual parking spot, in the middle of the lot beside the tennis court, and glided out of my car swiftly. Deidara shut the door calmly, and walked towards the building after thanking me for the ride. As the blonde walked towards the entrance, I noticed he was limping; I suddenly had the urge to drive back to Madara's and beat him mercilessly with Sasuke's old baseball bat.

**NOW. Let's have a review, yes? That would just be _snazzy_.**


	2. Regret

**_Obviously_, no one takes a fancy to this GENIUS idea. That makes this one sad. Well. I have more tasty snacks for this story. You guys are missing out. **

**I do not own Naruto. *smacks forehead* Thank goodness I don't. Heh.**

"I want a five page rough draft tomorrow on my desk," the professor of my AP English class declared to the classroom (I never said I didn't make straight A's). I straightened up my belongings as the last bell rang. That paper will be the death of me. Luckily, I'm doing my topic over banning secular books from schools and libraries, and how it's pointless to do so, so it shouldn't be a big deal. The problem I have to worry about is when I'll be able to do the assignment; I just know Madara's going to "request" me tonight.

"Itachi," the professor said, his voice shooting to my ears. I paused at the door, allowing the other students to leave, and watched the professor intently.

"Sir?" I finally asked after he was silent for too long of a period for me to handle. The professor, professor Kakashi, walked towards his podium.

"Take a seat," he gestured to one of the many desks. _If I'm late, Madara's going to kill me_, I thought. Dropping my bag into one of the seats, I crossed my arms, standing at my full height of 6'1 (I'm making him taller here~), and looked at Kakashi, whom sighed dramatically at my behavior.

"Always going to be rebellious, huh?" he stated, smirking (**OH MAN. No mask. Itachi's so lucky…**). I ignored his remark.

"Is it about my grades, sir?" He shook his grey spiky hair. "Not meaning to appear rude, but I'm running a bit late on an errand. Please tell me why I'm here," I demanded somewhat politely; the longer it takes to get out of here, the harder Madara will be with me. Kakashi cleared his throat, relaxing into his podium.

"You live with your uncle, am I correct?" I visibly stiffened; I'm pretty sure Kakashi caught that.

"Yes, why do you ask?" I asked apathetically, trying to cover up my worry. Kakashi's eyes tightened, his lips frowning.

"Simple curiosity. I'd like to request a parent-teacher conference with him concerning your health." I couldn't help but choke on my breath. Shit. I'm screwed.

"My health," I said softly, as if it were a sentence on its own. Kakashi nodded.

"Itachi, you've grown both mentally and physically, but…You're always weak. I've noticed the way you are with the other students, especially the guys. As a teacher, it's my duty to make sure each of my students are-," I swiftly interrupted his ranting.

"So you're requesting a meeting with my uncle to discuss how scrawny and anti sociable I am? Sir, I'm a teenager. I have better things to do than to hang out with a bunch of degenerates whose only life ambition is to _do_ every hot chick they see. That goes along with dating; most of the girls here have slept with more than one person, and I've taken my Health classes. I know walking diseases when I see them.

"As for why I never consume the food here…Have you not been in the cafeteria? The food is utterly repulsive and is too closely related to pig slop. I'd rather wait until school's out than to eat that sickening, greasy sustenance," I concluded my words, grabbed my back pack, and moved towards the door.

"Now if you'll excuse me, professor," As I opened the door, a hand quickly pulled my back pack backwards. Going on my instincts, I swiftly turned and pushed myself against the wall, my hand reaching into my jeans pocket, for my pocket knife. Professor Kakashi stared at me confusedly, his eyebrows arching at amusing angles.

"Itachi, I _will_ talk to your uncle. I expect you to tell him tonight," he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. I exhaled a long breath, closing my eyes. Taking my hand out of my pocket, I mumbled "yes, sir," then pushed the door open; _I can just hear the shouting now…_

On my way towards the parking lot, I have to pass the gym to reach the exit doors. As expected, almost every student left in a hurry to smoke or do themselves in their shiny cars (or go to their jobs, etc), so the hallways were utterly silent as I walked quietly through them. As I reached the gym, however, I heard shouts, and a distinct "un!" within the loud noises. Alert, I darted towards the doors of the gym, listening for any other sounds. I suddenly heard someone shout, "hold his fucking arms down," I bolted towards the shouts, my mind precisely on finding whatever was happening. The shouts were coming from the locker rooms, and I quickly burst through the door, my eyes blazing in anger and surprise as to what I saw.

Deidara, the sophomore, had his shirt torn off, his arms and legs were being held down by four grizzly seniors, and he was blindfolded. Another senior boy was standing next to Deidara's body, with what looked to be a pillowcase stuffed with solid materials. _Ah; soap bars in the pillowcase. Classic_. The five guys stared at me in shock, the four holding Deidara down looking at each other confusedly.

"The fuck you need, weasel?" The one holding the pillowcase asked gruffly, looking at me with an annoyed expression. I merely shrugged, shoving my hands into my pockets; silently, I grasped the handle of my pocket knife.

"I simply wondered what this scene was going to lead to," I stated simply, looking into the main guy's beady eyes. The others laughed wholeheartedly, as if they owned the locker room, though I don't see why they would want to. It reeks in here.

"It's going to lead to this faggot getting his ass kicked," the main guy said defiantly, swinging the pillowcase around; Deidara, who was struggling trying to get out of the four boys' grasps on him, felt the air swish as the main guy swung the pillowcase, and stiffened. He's freaking out now; time for this to end.

"Well, that sounds magnificent. You know who else who absolutely adore this celebration? Professor _Kakashi_," I smiled warmly at the five boys, who suddenly looked nervous. Idiots. "Yes, I just left his room a few minutes ago. I'm sure he would love this meeting as much as he loves giving students alternative school for bullying others, and giving F's to those whom deserve them." I started for the door. "Shall I go and get him? I'm getting a little excited myself just standing here." As I opened the door, the five boys quickly let go of their hold on Deidara, whom quickly fell over and sat up, trying to get the blind fold off of his face. The five boys glared at me as they departed the locker room.

"We're watching you, Weasel," the main one said menacingly. I smirked at him gleefully.

"Back at you, sweetheart," I said, winking at him. _It adds dramatic effect, couldn't help myself_, I thought amusingly. As the five boys walked away, I turned towards Deidara. The boy was sitting against the lockers, his legs hugging his chest as he struggled with the blindfold, which I saw was extremely tight on his tanned face. Squatting down, I reached for his face, calmly swatting his hands away. As I undid the blindfold, I noticed his eyes were red, as if he were crying. _Poor kid_, I thought somberly.

"How long has this been happening?" I asked him emotionlessly, watching his face turn away in embarrassment, his cheeks slightly flushed.

"It only happens when we lose a game during the class…They _always_ pick me, and I can't say no. The teacher would be pissed," he said softly, wiping his face. I stretched my legs out, exhaling a relaxed breath.

"Hn…" I replied, suddenly thinking about the time. I need to get home…I suddenly rose, startling Deidara. He looked up at me confusedly. Grabbing my bag, I turned around at looked at him quizzically, and then reached my hand towards him. _Is this how you do it? Being nice to someone?_ He grinned, grabbing my hand, and stood up. I finally remembered he didn't have a shirt on; he had bruises on his hip bones, and on his abdomen. _They're like mine,_ I couldn't help but think. He caught my staring, and quickly covered his body with his arms, blushing like a girl. He turned around and opened a locker; the locker held his gym clothes. He swiftly pulled a blue shirt on, then shut the locker. My eyebrows furrowed as I thought about what this boy had to go through. It must be absolutely horrible having to deal with both bullies at school _and_ Madara.

"I'm sorry," I spoke aloud, not meaning to. Deidara looked at me with curiosity.

"About what?" Cursing myself in my head, I turned towards the exit, not wanting to answer him; it's even worse when someone else knows about your pain and they point it out. As I opened the door to leave, Deidara suddenly grasped onto the back of my hoodie. I turned, slightly annoyed; he's wasting my time, now…

"I-I'm sorry, but I just wanted to thank you, un," he said, his eyes covered by his blonde hair. "No one really pays attention to me here, and you suddenly do…" I smiled slightly, turning around to see him fully.

"You're—," _He can't know. Even if he's going through the same shit you are. Get out of there, now_, a harsh voice spoke in my head, stunning me. I groaned slightly.

"I pay little attention to someone who's doing my uncle," I heard the harsh voice speak to the blonde. "That little incident in the locker room meant nothing. Now remove your hand from my being." I felt myself glaring at the stricken blonde, whose eyes were wide. He quickly let go of my hoodie, backing up slightly. His eyebrows furrowed together as he looked at me menacingly.

"I didn't realize you were two-faced. I'm not doing your disgusting uncle either; he merely found me when I was hanging out with Sasori-sama and took me! How dare you think of me as a fucking whore, un!" He yelled, his arms trembling. I turned around and walked towards the parking lot, trying my best not to fall to my knees in self-anger in front of Deidara. Swiftly dropping into my Honda, I turned the engine on and sped off, not once looking back towards the boy glaring at me with anger. I realized something just then: I just lost a friendship worthy of my time. And it's Madara's fault.

**Ouch, such a Heartless, Ita-senpai. Well now, the next chapter will be quite snazzy, since Itachi has to discuss the requested meeting involving his professor and his uncle. Wonder what that cheeky Madara will do...**

**Freakin' review, dammit. *stifles laugh* COME ON. It's gonna be great! Heh. Tell me it's shit, and I'll make the story into fertilizer so it can give birth to many beautiful flowers. Then, you can review the "flowers," and tell me it's wonderful. Freakin' circle of crappy Fan fiction life, man. S'how it works. :]**


	3. SOL

Author's Note**: Hm. This is the shortest chapter I've ever done for any of my fan fictions. Poop. I hate short chapters. T^T**

**THANK YOU, MidniteCurse4Eternity, for _REVIEWING_. _MAN_, you're awesome. Ha...Now then. Yes, this is short, but it'll do. Nothing productive happens, except for the fact that Itachi will be ~$&$#$*^. *cough* Heheheh. **

* * *

_I have to tell Madara about the meeting Professor Kakashi requested. This will not be wonderful._

I pulled into the driveway of my uncle's house, taking note of how late I was, and ran into the house, accidently slamming the door. I looked around for any signs of my uncle's whereabouts, and then bolted towards my bedroom. Thank goodness no one was in the hallways, or they most likely would have gotten pissed at my rampage. As I opened my door, a cold, guttural feeling swept through me and caused my knees to tremble; Madara was sitting on my bed, reading one of the many books I have possession of with an entranced face.

"Hello, Ita-chan," he murmured quietly, flipping to the next page. With a hand, he motioned me into the room, not looking up from the book. Apparently City of Bones was immensely appealing to the tall bushy haired man. I silently walked into the room, shutting the door softly whilst dropping my bag onto my nearby navy blue mushroom chair (yay for alliteration~), and stood directly in front of Madara. I made sure to keep enough distance between us, even if it didn't matter; I'm screwed either way. Madara shut the book with a muffled _pop_, and had his eyes on me, watching me amusedly.

"Now, this Magnus fellow," he declared with a hint of delight, "is magnificent. Simply astonishing; who, in their right mind, would smother themselves in glitter, and have an enormous party all for their cat? Marvelous; I think he just might be the blossoming form of my favorite character." _Shocker, he's a powerful, gay warlock. Emphasize on __gay_ (*cough* Technically, Mr. Bane is _bisexual_. Get your facts straight, Itachi). I shuffled my feet, purposely ignoring Madara's small talk. I know he's going to "punish" me; I just hate how he puts a noble effort into prolonging the time. It makes me insane.

"Itachi," he suddenly said in his booming voice, drawing my attention from my shoes to his face; he looked serious now. "Where were you?" I straightened up, and began my explanation.

"Forgive me, sir. As I was leaving from my last class, my professor kept me to discuss…" _How the hell do I say this? 'Sir, he kept me to discuss how your abuse is affecting me.' …No. That would leave my ass numb for a week. Crap…_ Madara rose from the bed, leaving the book, and walked towards me, his hands going into his pockets. I noticed this, and words quickly flew from my mouth.

"He just kept me to discuss my research paper. I was having trouble with the spacing and the format. Professor explained to me the details of all of those," I lied, thinking of how much of a genius I am. _Who would have thought?_ Madara looked down on me; his eyes dark obsidian, and smiled. A wave of nausea rolled into my body; I hated this part.

"Why don't you explain what all he told you, then?" He said, pulling his hands out of his pockets. I noticed that on his fingers were huge, golden rings. _Shit_, I thought. _He knows_. Despite my defiant mind, I stepped back, watching his hands flex. All at once, Madara grasped the back of my neck and pulled me towards him. I retaliated by trying to push him away; that ended with a powerful blow to my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I dropped to my knees spitting up blood and saliva, and cursed myself for my foolishness.

"Research paper, hn?" Uncle said bemusedly, crouching down towards me. "Are you sure it was about your little research paper? Or was it something else?" I glared at his disgusting face, and desperately wanted to spit on him. Instead, I replied as calmly as I could manage.

"It was about m-my health, sir. He wants to have a parent teacher conference with you," I forced myself to stare at his bewildered features, not breaking eye contact. "I'm sorry I lied; I didn't know how to t-tell you," I coughed in my hand, still staring dead on into Madara's eyes.

The man's eyes flashed angrily as he took me by the neck, raising me towards his face. "What did you do, boy?" He glared menacingly into my squinted eyes.

"What are you—," He shook me violently until I could barely breathe.

"Don't give me that horse shit. What are you doing at school that causes the professor to worry about you?" He swiftly threw me onto my bed and straddled me, holding my hands up above my head with one of his hands. I groaned slightly at the pressure he put on my stomach, but told myself not to freak out.

"I-I don't eat at school, _sir_," I stated, glaring at his face. Madara looked at me confusedly, then reached into his back pocket. What came into my view caused me to accidently gasp; he had a knife. With this said knife, the man brought it to my neck, and pressed slightly into my skin. I froze, closing my eyes.

"You're telling me the truth, boy?" He demanded, digging the knife into my skin harder. I winced, my mind in a state of panic. Silently, I nodded. Just as Madara was about to ask another question, someone banged on the door. Catching Madara off guard, he accidently cut into my neck, causing me to cry out. He noticed and, cursing under his breath, he jumped off the bed and opened the door violently. In the doorway stood Pein, wearing his usual attire of dark jeans and some random shirt. He looked over towards me, and then smiled at Madara.

"Forgive me; I didn't realize I was intruding. Sir, we need to go over the prices of the new products. Kakuzu's already waiting for us," Pein inclined his head as he spoke to Madara. With a drastic sigh, Madara agreed, and followed him out of the room. Before he was completely out of the room, he turned and glared at me, his face frowning.

"Get that damned cut treated, boy. You're bleeding all over your bed." Cursing under my breath softly, I nodded and stumbled off of the bed, following Madara slowly into the hallway.

* * *

**Such _anger_. Did you enjoy anticipating on the moment where Itachi gets "pummeled?" **

**Tsk, well I understand it. Yes, pummeled as in "beaten up/squashed like a bug/etc." Not f*** pummel. 'Tis too early for that, if I ever write them doing the actual act of the Flappy. Hah. Well now, let's wonder if Madara will go to the meeting, shall we? And WHILE we're waiting, we (YOU) should REVIEW the chapter. Heh, just kidding. That's like asking Axel to get a perm. Or something...Wow, I can't even imagine that. *cough* LAME. **


	4. Meeting

"Itachi, what's on your neck?" Of course, Sasuke would be the first to point it out. I gave him an apathetic look. He frowned, still staring at my neck; a band-aid was hiding Madara's little mishap.

"It's nothing, don't worry," I calmly replied to him. Sasuke suddenly blushed scarlet, which didn't escape my eyes. Is he okay?

"I-I wasn't worried! Just…concerned is all. Simple curiosity." He looked away, crossing his arms. I chuckled at his little attitude, and ruffled his hair. Oh, the anger emanating from his pores!

"Concern means worry, Otouto. I'm flattered," I told him, quickly moving to the side as he tried to hit me. "All right, get in the car. We'll be late." We both slid into my car, and I drove off, the engine purring groggily. As I turned the music up higher, Sasuke clicked it off, leaving me to glare at him.

"What did I say about touching things in my car?" I growled lightly, furrowing my brow. Sasuke kept staring out of the windshield, watching the trees swirl in the wind, oblivious to everything. Damn it.

"Are you doing something with Uncle?" He asked softly; I froze. What does he mean? Did he hear us? Has he known all along? I kept my hands glued to the wheel, looking dead ahead at the road.

"What do you mean?" I said emotionlessly. He looked over to me; we locked eyes for a second (it felt like an hour).

"…Today? Like, at school? He was talking about something like having to go to a conference with one of your professors." Relief flooded my system. My shoulders eased, my lungs having the freedom to inhale and breathe.

"Right. Yes, one of my professors won't keep his nose in place, so he wants to meet Madara and discuss idiotic things. I'm sure it's nothing important." Nice cover-up, Itachi. Well, it worked; Sasuke bought it.

"Oh. Well, that's annoying. Stupid professor," he said snidely, switching the music back on. I smiled outwardly, but inwardly I wished my professor would have noticed _long_ ago.

* * *

"Mr. Uchiha, please come in," Professor Kakashi said to my uncle. Kakashi thought it would be better to have me in the conference. Joy. I walked in after my uncle slid into a desk, and sat in the one next to him. We both looked at Kakashi, who was shutting the door. He then moved to his desk, leaning on the edge.

"Mr. Uchiha—" Madara suddenly chuckled.

"Please, must we be so formal? Madara, my good sir. Call me Madara," he cooed, giving Kakashi a warm smile; Kakashi cleared his throat, obviously flustered. Madara could do that to anyone, really. Make them uncomfortable while at the same time attracted to him. It's utterly ridiculous.

"Madara, do you realize Itachi has lost weight? He hasn't been eating at school, and he's always pale," Kakashi stated, looking at Madara with curiosity in his eyes (or should I say eye? Ehheh…*). Madara's eyes grew big as he looked in my direction.

"You're not eating?" Wow, he can act. I cleared my throat, ready to explain, but Kakashi cut me off.

"You didn't realize this?" Madara shook his head, his eyebrows furrowing.

"No, I most certainly did not. I've been giving him cash for every two weeks for his meals here." Bullshit. Total bullshit. Is he kidding me? But, of course, Kakashi took the bait. The two men both stared me down, ready for an explanation. What am I supposed to say to that crap? Oh, this sucks.

"As I told you before, Professor, I don't eat here because the food _sucks_. And—,"

"That doesn't explain your Uncle's money. What do you do with it?" Kakashi asked sternly, crossing his arms. Madara nodded his head.

"Yes, what are you doing with my money, Itachi?" He looked at me in the eyes, smirking only for me; Kakashi wouldn't be able to see it, but it was there. It's there, and it's staying. I sighed; I'm in quite the pickle. If I say Madara's lying, Kakashi surely won't believe me. If I tell Kakashi the truth, I'll get my ass literally handed to me by Madara. I rubbed my temples. This is so ridiculous…

Kakashi sighed, shaking his head. "I see this is a personal matter with your family life, Itachi. I won't make you tell me anything, which is why I need you to leave for my next questions. They are for only Mr.—I mean, Madara." Madara's eyes darkened for the briefest moment, and then gleamed with curiosity and humor.

"Well, then. Itachi, we'll be just a bit. Why don't you wait in the hall?" Madara said, looking at Kakashi. I quickly stumbled out of the desk and slid to the door, shutting it softly. I went over to the opposite side of the door, and sat on the floor, leaning my back against the wall. This is horrible…He's going to kill me, for sure.

* * *

"Now, Kakashi, what is it?" Madara asked politely, eager to get home and pummel the living shit out of his nephew. Kakashi looked at Madara, contemplating on how to ask him a certain, important question.

"I've…noticed markings. Markings on Itachi's body. Do you know anything about them?" Madara pretended to look worried as he clutched the desk.

"Markings? Where?" Kakashi narrowed his eyes. Could Madara be playing him for a fool? He couldn't tell.

"They're on his abdomen, mostly. I've had Itachi's gym teacher tell me that Itachi changes in a stall, not out in the open like the rest of the students. The gym teacher has informed me that there are also markings on his hips and lower abdomen. Do you know anything about that?" Madara was in a state of panic in his head. Suddenly, he thought of a genius idea: frame the boy. Yes, that will be fun.

* * *

"_What_?" I yelled on accident as Madara drove us back to Hell. "You said I was in a _gang_? He won't buy that, Madara." Madara growled at me under his breath.

"If you just act like everyone else and not stick out like a sore _thumb_, then he _will_ buy it. Now, shut up. You're already in enough trouble as it is. Little shit, you totally wasted my time today." I fumed in my seat, ready to snap Madara's fingers. As Madara pulled into the garage and turned off the car, I unbuckled my safety belt and opened the door. However, Madara quickly pulled me by the shirt, making me slam the door back; he locked the doors. I jerked myself back, tearing his hand off of my shirt, and growled at him.

"What the fuck do you want? Can't you just wait until tonight, you half-brained son of a _bitch_?" Oop. Shit. I stared at Madara, my mouth agape. I went way, way too far. I could feel the dark aura emanating from my uncle as he looked at me, his eyes burning mine.

"What was that?" He asked quietly, unbuckling his safety belt. I shrank into the car seat more as he moved his body towards me. I stammered, trying to think of something to ease the mood, but he suddenly knocked me in the jaw with his fist, slamming my head into the car seat. I spat blood out, groaning, and braced myself as he took a hold onto my shirt and pulled me to the back of the car. He smashed me into the seats and towered over me, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. I froze, immediately scrambling towards the corner of the car seat afterwards.

"C-come on, not here! Please, not here!" I whimpered, holding my hands up as he scooched towards me, grabbing onto my ankles. He then pulled me so that my crotch hit his; he grunted slightly. Bile started to rise in my mouth, but I kept it down as I tried to keep his hands off of my pants. Unsuccessful, Madara stripped me of my jeans and unmentionables, leaving me bare and embarrassed in his presence. He quickly raised my legs up onto each of his shoulders and, without any preparation, slammed himself into me. Of course, I screamed, but this time, it hurt so much worse! It was like each thrust was a stab in the chest!

"Oh ho, Itachi, tonight will be so much more fun for you. I'll get the boys to.._ah_! come over. We'll have a party tonight, boy," He moaned, thrusting into my once more. I bit onto my fist, waiting for him to finish. Damn it, it hurt so bad!

"S-shit, after every time, you're still as tight as a little virgin girl," he chuckled, grunting as he hurried to his climax. He grabbed onto my hips, bringing me to each of his thrusts, which killed me. Then, a shot of hot liquid imploded into me, melting my innards, and I heard Madara curse loudly, groaning pleasurably. I whimpered as Madara came out of me, letting my bruised fist land limply onto the car floor. Madara pulled his jeans up, and calmly left the car. He stopped at my side of the car, and tapped on the window.

"Do not try to pull something like that with your teacher again. I'll see you tonight."

* * *

**As Ronnie Radke said, "I'm baack~" And following the maniacal laughter, I shall _not_ begin the music to Tragic Magic. However, as I explained on my profile, I have to be in the right mood to write/type this fic, and this entire week has literally gone to the dogs. It was horrible. I had three-THREE important tests/quizzes in AP Chemistry, I had to deal with unwanted attention at school, and I lost my sketchpad. **

**Now, I mean not to rant to whomever is reading my fic (which I greatly thank you, viewers), but losing a sketchpad is like losing a horcrux. It is a part of me. If you aren't associated with the arts, then you . I was so terrified someone took it and was ripping the pages out of it, laughing like a freakin' animal (because animals can laugh). I was going through my head, trying to think of what to do if someone were to just give it back to me. OH...**

**So. To sum it up, this week has been the worst week I've ever had. Which is why it was perfect for me to begin writing this fic again. Because I've been in such a disgustingly unbearable mood.**

**Hope you enjoy this fucking masterpiece. Forgive me, it's a bit short and sketchy. And Itachi, sorry sweety, but we needed to see you impaled tonight. I hope you can understand. ._.**


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